Ripples
by Fawkes' Feather
Summary: I don't know why I have this desire to feel such a burning passion arise, so beautiful, yet so ugly in my heart, my soul, in me. A story of pain and unrequited love but also one of redemption. Taito. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: the characters are not mine but the plot is.

A/N: okay, okay, I was going tobegin working on anotherupdate for"Purely Platonic" but then I was hit with this plot bunny in the middle of the night (literally) and I had to write it down before I forgot it. With that, enjoy!

It was late in the afternoon and the gang was gathered at the local park, each wondering what was going on and why the hell had they dropped their plans to sit under the hot sun on prickly, bug-infested grass. There was only one that was not complaining, one out of the entire group who wasn't shifting uncomfortably or sighing impatiently. He turned sad, chocolate eyes to the ground and was picking at a blade of emerald green grass, wondering how his life had managed to spiral to such a low point. There were bags under his eyes from staying up to all hours of the very early morning, either drunk as hell or stoned out of his mind. He sat directly in the middle of the impatient group but, ironically, seemed so far apart from everyone else.

"Hi everyone, I'm glad you could make it," the melodic sound of a deep, bass voice laced with joy floated over his head and he snapped his eyes to the source of that beautiful sound. There, before him, stood the only individual in the world who could bring a smile to his face. "Hey Tai-baka," that angelic being smiled at him and his heart fluttered in his chest. He returned with a small smile of his own.

"Hey, Yama-chan," he whispered, voice cracking from the drugs and lack of use. He had recently taken to retreating within himself, shunning the company of his friends and refusing to say anything to anyone.

The others watched him, eyes slightly accusing and yet, at the same time, amazed that he had even come out of his apartment. Most of them had given up attempting to cajole their friend from the dark hole he had recently slipped into as a result of something or another. Most of them had been hurt more than once by this sad and angry man who was less than a shell of his former self. Rather than suffer at the hands of his cruel words, which he had miraculously perfected to bite in the most horrible way possible, they simply learned to get on without his company and that tenacious smile of his, which had disappeared, perhaps forever.

"So, everyone, I called you here today to announce something of great importance."

"It's about time!" Sora called, glaring at the blonde in front of her, "I missed a playoff game for this." The others seemed to take this as an invitation to voice their displeasure; Jyou wailed that he was going to have to make up a practice test, Koushiro grumbled about the lack of reception at the damn park as he fiddled with his laptop, Mimi was too busy shrieking about the bugs to whine about her hair, and the younger ones simply groaned about the sun.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry I took so long, I was nervous that's all," Yamato smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders in a self-conscious fashion. Tai watched his best friend with interest; it was rare that the cool, calm, and untouchable Ishida Yamato acted uncomfortable and he knew that whatever announcement was about to be made, it was really important to his friend.

"Get on with it already!" Daisuke shouted, with an impatient look on his face.

"Well, the reason I called you here today," he stopped as a young woman ran toward him, and a lovesick smile spread slowly on his face.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Mato, but one thing after another kept popping up and—well, here I am." She planted a chaste kiss on Yamato's cheek and he grinned, turning to reciprocate with a kiss of his own.

"Right, well, now that we're here," Yamato paused and took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something. "The reason I—we—called all of you here today is to tell you that," he turned to her and took her thin hands into his, "we're going to be married!"

A gasp of shock rippled through the group and they gaped, open-mouthed at Yamato. Then once the initial shock had worn off, everyone's head swiveled to Taichi. He was Yamato's best friend and, though he had never said anything to confirm or contradict the matter, they all knew that he was in love with Yamato.

Taichi's heart had clenched at the sight of the smile on Yamato's face when that woman showed up, running towards them. In the back of his mind, he knew what was about to happen, what Yamato was about to tell them. He was not shocked at the announcement but he was hurt. He let out the breath that he had been holding, his expression stony and dark. When Yamato turned to beam at them, however, Taichi arranged his face into a smile and he stood, brushing himself off as he did so.

"Congratulations, Sayura," he said, proffering his hand, which she took, "I wish you a lifetime of happiness." Without even glancing at the blonde, without so much as a wave of goodbye, he turned on his heel and strode from the park.

"Hey wait, Tai-baka, aren't you going to come? We're having an engagement party at the clubhouse and Sayura and I would really like it if you could come."

"No, Yamato, I have to be somewhere. I'll see you around." Taichi never stopped walking but, instead, picked up his pace and literally ran from the park. He could not see for the tears in his eyes were blurring his vision. His heart, which had been clenched, was now broken, bleeding inside of him and spreading its pain to the rest of his body. Once home, he slammed the door shut and threw himself on the bed, sobbing for everything that he was worth. His thin body was racked with hurt and it shuddered as the sound of his harsh crying filled the quiet house. He was now completely alone and there would never be a warm, smiling face to fill the space he'd made in his heart. The space in which no one else could ever fit, save for one who was lost to him forever.

Taichi smiled even less, got stoned all the more, did anything to take away that ache which constantly accompanied him everywhere. He rarely saw his old friends anymore, avoiding them as best he could without knowing exactly why, only that they reminded him of happier days when he had Yamato all to himself.

"What's wrong with you, Taichi?" Yamato demanded suddenly, several weeks later, startling the brown-haired boy from his reverie. "You've been acting funny lately."

"Oh really!" he didn't know why he was getting so upset but there was something about the tone of voice that his friend had used, "Well, excu-use me. I'll just go now if I'm not happy enough for the likes of you!"

"Hey, don't take this out on me. I know you've been feeling really bad lately but it is not my fault so you have no reason to blame me." The blonde's blue eyes were now like chips of ice and the look in them was one of pure fury.

"Get out of my way, Ishida," Tai snapped, noting, with a sort of vindictive pleasure, the hurt that flashed through Yamato's eyes at the use of his surname. He did not say anything again but moved aside and allowed Taichi to brush past.

Once at home, the boy locked the door to his bathroom and pulled out his razor blade, wondering at the flash of light against the cold metal. It was curved, smiling at him and winking in the stark bathroom light. A snide voice whispered thoughts of suicide and told him how easy it would be to slash that vein open and then go to sleep, only never to wake up again. It would be easy, he agreed, but death was too good for him. He was a failure; had failed to do anything of worth in his entire life. Why then, should he be allowed the luxury of death if he had contributed nothing to the world? Death would end the suffering that his failures had brought and, since it was always his fault, he knew that it was not an option. No, he would suffer and remind himself every day of the beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel that would never be his.

He couldn't bring himself to dwell on the reason that his downhill spiral had begun. It hurt to know that he was forever dirty, forever marred with the god-awful memory of that horrible night when his innocence was lost. It was his fault, he had brought it upon himself and it was that fact alone that hurt the most. Yamato was only trying to be his friend, he knew, but the thought that he would only be his friend, forever distanced by that term, only served to cause him even more anguish. He was in love, hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with his best friend, the boy with whom he had grown up. It was pure agony to see Yamato and Sayura together, smiling and so fucking happy. It wasn't that he didn't want Yamato to be happy, far from it. The blonde had had troubles throughout his whole life and a part of Taichi was really, truly happy that something good had happened to his friend. It was Taichi's other half, the one that longed to be with Yamato, which had trouble dealing with the lovesick couple. It was his darker side, the one which had currently taken over and had no intentions of relinquishing control.

Tai scowled angrily at the blade and raised it above the skin on his wrist. Quickly and almost vindictively, he slashed the pale skin of his arm, crisscrossing the wounds so it looked almost as if he'd wrestled a rosebush, opening new wounds and re-opening old ones. He was panting when he allowed the blade to clatter to the floor and sat in the cold bathroom, on the hard tiles, watching as his blood pearled and dripped onto the pure white floor. Sighing, he knew that he would regret the action later so he stood and, with the mechanical likeness of a machine, washed and bandaged his arm and then proceeded to wipe the floor clean. His weary brown eyes closed and he let out a sad sigh, shoulders sagging. It was late but he wasn't tired. He was never tired anymore. With grudging slowness, he made his way to the softly glowing screen of his computer and sat down in front of it. His hands rested on the keyboard, though he was careful to keep his left wrist from touching the table to avoid aggravating his self-inflicted wounds. His mind was full of thought, emotions swirling in his chest and he was wide awake, almost caffeinated by the hurt and angst that he was experiencing.

It struck him as ironic that he was the one "angsting," and that Yamato's life was the one that was seemingly perfect. Life had always been the other way around; Taichi was the happy-go-lucky one and Yamato was the quiet one who tried to hide his emotions but ended up funneling them into his perfect crystal blue eyes, which always seemed sad, no matter what his facial expression said otherwise. Now, however, Taichi was fucked up. Seriously fucked up. He was addicted to weed, despite knowing the horrible side-effects that his addiction would eventually bring and he was slowly but surely turning more and more to alcohol when and if there was no pot to be had. Among all the other things that disgusted him, Taichi was sick of himself. He had become everything that he hated, everything that he had promised he would never become. It was a wonder that the others still considered him a friend, that Yamato could even look at him without hating him.

Lost in thought and the time and space of his mind, Taichi's fingers flew over the keyboard, transferring his sorrow, and his love onto the screen. Finally, he fell asleep, head drooping to rest on the table beside the keyboard, his hands still poised over the keys, as if waiting for him to return to consciousness to add more or to obliterate the evidence from memory.

"Taichi? Tai? Tai!" Yamato knocked insistently on the door, worried with the lack of answer. The brunette was always happy to invite him in the house and he knew for a fact that his friend was at home. He had been reluctant to visit the moody boy, didn't want to further induce Taichi's ire. "Come on, Tai, let me in. I know you're mad at me for whatever fucking reason but we're still friends, right? Come on!" Growling in frustration, Yamato banged once more on the wood, succeeding only in bruising his knuckles. "FUCK!" he shouted, rubbing his hand, "You're being a shithead, Tai. You know that? A fucking shithead!"

Compelled for reasons unbeknownst to him, the blonde rummaged under the dirty welcome mat in front of the door in an attempt to find a key but came up empty-handed. As he stood before the unyielding door, biting his lip and thinking of all the possible places Taichi could have hidden his spare key, Yamato finally stood on his toes and felt around on the doorjamb. He was rewarded when his fingers brushed the cold, dusty metal of a key, hidden in a small space carved between the wood and the wall. Jiggling the rusty key in the knob, Yamato grinned triumphantly when it gave and the door clicked to let him in.

"Yagami Taichi, you're being stupid." As was his habit, Yamato kicked off his shoes haphazardly, refusing to put them straight as Sayura was so set on having him do. "Why won't you just talk to me?" Blue eyes scanned the room restlessly but it was devoid of any indication that his friend was in the house. Then, his ears caught sound of faint snoring, coming from the back of the house and he followed it, the snoring growing slightly louder as he got nearer to its source. The sight that met his eyes nearly caused him to melt right then and there. The angry, impatient look softened into one of concern and care. No wonder Taichi hadn't answered his call.

"Baka, you really shouldn't work so late. That can't be comfortable," Yamato whispered, unwilling to disturb the peacefully sleeping man in front of him. He stepped into the room with small steps, careful not to make too much noise, despite the fact that he was wearing socks in a carpeted area. When he eventually reached the computer, he leaned close and inhaled the comforting, familiar scent of his best friend, that smell of grass and warm sunshine. His eyes rose to the screen, where a poem was just waiting to be finished. Curious and surprised, for he didn't know that Taichi even wrote poetry, he couldn't keep himself from drinking in every blessed word.

I don't know why this consumes me so.

I don't know why I have this desire

To feel such a burning passion

Arise, so beautiful, yet so ugly

In my heart, my soul, in me

I have no idea why it is

Here or why I have

To feed it but I

Do know that

I don't want

It to go

Away. –_Taichi__ Yagami_

I am but a ripple in a lake

Won't you try catching me, for my sake?

Because I need to know that someone cares

Before I give in to this overwhelming despair

Long ago, when I was a boy

I had a dream that gave me no joy

There was not a thing I could do about it

The pain it caused felt like I'd just been hit

There was the one whom I care deeply for

You did not reciprocate; instead it was me you abhorred

I tried desperately to gain your affection

But all you cared to see was my imperfection

When my eyes opened, I could not breathe

I felt like I was about to heave

I cried out loudly as I fully awoke

Then your arms wrapped around me like a warm cloak

But that was so long ago, back when we were best friends

We were as close as brothers with love that knew no ends

That innocent sweet love that both of us felt

Blossomed in me where for years it has dwelt

In you that love has stayed the same

To you we're still brothers; your love is still tame

For me it has spun out of control

Won't you give back the heart that you stole?

Don't you know how much I hurt

When you brush me aside, with answers curt

This is more than just a school-boy crush

No matter what happens, to your side will I rush

I will waste away soon; in my heart I know this

I will die of hunger for you and your soft sweet kiss

Until I finally know how you feel

My heart and my mind to protect them I seal

You know not of my feelings for you

But hopeless as it seems I won't bid you a sad "adieu"

I will not give in, I will not give up

I will wait for your _amour_ to overflow my life's cup

I know I am not the easiest person to love

I know that at times I am quite rough

But that doesn't mean I'm not chasing you

Because I want to know you, I honestly do

I am but ripples gracing the surface of a lake

You have not caught me for I will break

I am always pulled further away from your grasp

But maybe someday, around your waist will my arms clasp.

_You torture me so much_

_And I hate you for all_

_That you have put_

_Me through; my_

_Heart and my_

_Soul are_

_Dying._

Heart pounding, Yamato backed away from the slumbering man slowly. He had tread into a secret of Taichi's, a bubble of thought and emotion that even he was not privy to know. The silence in the room, broken only by his own harsh breathing and that of Tai's, pressed upon him and, with the early morning rays of light streaming through the small window, a sense of utter surrealism gripped his soul. Small sounds were magnified tenfold, as if his senses had suddenly grown sharper in the space of a few minutes. When Tai shifted slightly, muttering in his sleep, the creak of the wooden chair caused Yamato to jump so hard that his feet almost left the ground. It would not be good if his friend should wake up with him in the room, so he tiptoed back through the house before throwing on his shoes and running from the house as fast as he was able.

Once in the safety of his own apartment, the quiet comfort that came with surroundings that never surprised him, Yamato flopped back in the bed, spread-eagled, and stared at the ceiling. The poem had been rather melancholy, the sadness Taichi must have been feeling as he wrote it emanated through the words. So who was this person with whom he was so in love? The blonde sighed, berating himself for being so stupid. There had been signs of his friend's depression for a while, in the way that the usually cheerful man became withdrawn. Taichi was irritable, easily provoked to anger, and, more often than not, in a foul mood. He remembered Sora mentioning something about it and saw her face in front of his, angry and irritated and desperate. She'd pleaded with him to do something, to ask and probe. He'd tried, half-heartedly, and the results were not at all pleasing, nor were they what he had intended. Which was the reason for his early morning visit; Tai was usually up and about by this time. He'd meant to confront and prod until the other became so frustrated that he would say something he hadn't wanted to say. Of course, his discovery had messed up that plan…

His mind whirled with different scenarios, the different faces of the various girls that Taichi had befriended. But, what was it? The poem had mentioned something about brothers and a bad dream…

Yamato gasped and sat up, shocked from his languid contemplations. The relaxation that the warmth of his bed had brought was suddenly gone as if he'd been doused with cold water. He remembered Taichi having a bad dream, once when they were younger. Tai had been sleeping over and Yamato's father, making a rare appearance, had forced the two to go to sleep.

_"Yama?" Taichi's small voice whispered through the dark. "Yama? You awake?"_

_"Yeah, Tai-baka. I'm still awake," Yamato whispered back, turning on his side to see the young face of his best friend in the world. "What do you want?"_

_"G'night. See you in the morning." Even in the dark, Yamato could see the bright smile that lit Tai's face, could feel the other boy's content._

_"Night. Now, shut up before Dad hears." The two lapsed into silence and soon, both were asleep. The next morning, Yamato woke long before Taichi, padding sleepily to the bathroom to relieve his full bladder. Upon his return to the room, he found Taichi tossing and turning, muttering indistinctly, and, from the anguished look on his face, the dream was not pleasant. Before he could do or say anything, the boy had bolted upright, eyes brimmed with tears._

_"Kami-sama, that was only a dream." To Yamato's surprise, Taichi buried his face in his hands, silently crying._

_"Tai-baka? Tai, what's wrong? What happened?" At the sound of his voice, Taichi jerked his head upright, wiping hurriedly at his wet, tear-stained face. Acting on complete instinct, Yamato climbed back into the bed and wrapped his arms around the thin shoulders of the brunette, who had returned the gesture with fervor._

_"You must think I'm such a wuss," Tai muttered into Yamato's shirt, his bushy, auburn hair tickling Yamato's nose._

_"Nah, we all have bad dreams. It's okay." After a few more moments of complete silence, they broke away, looked each other in the eye, and then looked away quickly, both blushing._

They never mentioned the incident, by unspoken consent. Yamato felt it would be breaching Taichi's privacy, should he ask, and since the other had never spoken of it, he didn't feel the need to say anything.

There was no way that Taichi's poem could refer to anyone else. Did that mean that Taichi was gay? _Well, obviously, you idiot._ Yamato rolled his eyes and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. So Taichi loved him, did he? He felt strange; his stomach was—fluttering. It wasn't unpleasant, just strange. This revelation was not the cause of discomfort, strangely enough. Yamato had never felt fully at ease with men who were openly gay, as their hands always tended to wander to places he would rather have left unbothered. It would only have made sense if his discovery would serve to make him ill at ease around the brunette but there was no such emotion. Quietly, Yamato laughed to himself, hands running through the silky blonde locks that were his pride and joy. Taichi's emotions were making him curious. Why would he choose, of all people, Yamato? Besides the obvious fact that the two were best of friends, what made Yamato special?

The laughter died away as the serious questions were presented to his brain. Why wasn't he more—surprised? No, that wasn't the right word for it. Why didn't he feel any different about Taichi? Yamato was by no means a homophobic but the knowledge of a person's homosexuality had always changed his view of that person, save for this one time. If the poem was any indication, Taichi was madly in love. Madly in love. Yamato shuddered, remembering how it felt to love someone and find that the love is unrequited. No wonder. No wonder. God, he was stupid. He should have seen it. There were signs, now that he thought about it. Taichi's increasing moodiness had started right around the time Sayura had come into his life. He'd been wearing a seemingly forced smile at Yamato's engagement announcement and he'd made an excuse to avoid the party. _I am so fucking blind._

Truth be told, Yamato was rather touched. The man knew his deepest darkest secrets, knew his insecurities and about his past, and he still found Yamato someone worthy of his heart.

"Gods, this is fucked," Yamato groaned, suddenly disgusted with himself. Some friend he was. Sayura had taken up his whole life and thoughts of no one else ran through his brain. He hadn't even had time for the one person who'd been willing to do anything for him. He was suddenly hit with an overwhelming desire to make amends and, propelled by force of some unspoken agreement with himself he again made the short trek to Taichi's house.

"Oh, Yamato," Taichi's voice was flat and his eyes were blurred. There were dark bags under his eyes and his skin seemed paler than usual. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a wedding to plan?" Now attune to his friend's feelings, Yamato could hear the bitterness lurking behind the forced flat tone.

"Nah. I'm getting kind of sick of it, truth be told. I just want to be married, she's making it into some sort of ball." The words poured out of his mouth, without him even thinking of it. It was as if the thoughts he didn't know he'd had until that moment were releasing themselves. At the statement, Taichi raised an eyebrow, then stepped aside and let him in the house.

Inside, there was a pungent odor that hadn't been there earlier and Yamato refrained, with difficulty, the reflexive wrinkling of his nose. He sat down on the couch, Taichi sprawled beside him, leaning his head on Yamato's shoulder. Even through the fabric of his shirt, the blonde could feel the heat of Taichi's skin.

"Tai-baka? Are you feeling alright? You look ill." Without waiting for an answer, he pressed a thin hand to Tai's forehead, eyes widening in alarm at the heat. "Shit, you've got a fever. You really should take better care of yourself, you know."

"Bugger off!" Tai jerked from Yamato's touch as if it was a brand. With unwonted venom, he spat, "You've done just fine without me these past few months, why the sudden fucking interest? If you don't need me, then I don't need you. I don't fucking need you." At the words, Yamato's mouth went dry and he found himself speechless. He looked into the hazy eyes of his friend, tinged with sadness.

"But I do need you, Tai-baka," he whispered.

"Yeah, right, sure you do. You've got Sayura now," there was a note of finality and he hadn't bothered to veil the bitterness dripping from the words like poison. "Just leave me alone, alright?" Taichi's voice broke suddenly, and he turned, disappeared into his room and slammed the door.

Yamato sat speechless on the couch, eyes still fixed on the spot he had seen Taichi last. Vaguely, he heard a soft sound issuing from the door. Creeping slowly toward it, he sat at the other side, ear pressed against the door. Tears sprang into his eyes as he listened to the heart-wrenching sobs, the hurt that he knew he had caused, however inadvertently. It wasn't right when Taichi was sad; the man never cried, he was the stronghold, the rock that others leaned upon to help when needed.

"Tai?" There was no answer. "Come on, don't do this, don't push me away."

"Go away," Taichi moaned, voice muffled through the tears and the door. "Please. Just—go." Wanting to do something but at a complete loss as to what to do, Yamato had no choice but to stand and comply.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what it is that I did but—whatever it is, I'm so sorry." Bowing his head, he left the house, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Okay guys, I know that you're all busy so this won't take very long but it's really important," Sora's voice rose above the babble of her friends. When none of them looked at her, she pounded the desk before her, shooting daggers with her eyes. "LISTEN UP!" she finally roared, slamming a ruler on the desk with such force that it snapped in two, the split end flying across the room. Then there was complete silence.

"Is this about Tai?" Daisuke called out.

"Hai," Sora nodded gravely; the atmosphere in the room darkened ominously as if a cloud had passed over the sun.

"Well? What about him?" Koushiro asked, expression somber.

"I—caught him smoking weed," she replied, her voice barely above a breath and laced with tears. "Koushiro, you noticed those scars on his arms and he's been losing weight too fast to be healthy. I don't know what to do anymore. Every time I try to talk him, he ends up pushing me away. I try to be nice, invite him along, get him out of the house, but he refuses to have anything to do with me or with us. We need to do something and we need to do it now. This isn't just some psycho depressed phase anymore. He's really messed up and I'll be damned if I let him fall any more than he has already."

Taichi's breath caught in his throat as he watched the group rally around each other, with plans to help him. He had been on his way to see if he could possibly buy some more pot as his stash was running low when he heard Sora's voice coming from a door that was open just a smidgen of the way. Hearing his name, he had stopped and decided to eavesdrop.

"Sora, d'you think this has something to do with Sayura?" Takeru asked, fiddling uncomfortably with his fingers.

"Yes," Kari answered promptly from the other side of the room. "He hates her and, quite frankly, I don't like her either. There's—something about her that just makes me feel uncomfortable, like I have to act differently—like she disapproves of us."

"I know what you mean but—do you think it's a bit more than that?"

"Well, she's a bit—simpering, if you ask me," Kari shrugged nonchalantly. "But—well, I mean, obviously Taichi's in love with Yamato. I guess Sayura's just a tangible piece of evidence that Yamato will never be his."

"They would have been a really cute couple," Mimi piped up sadly. "They've loved each other since middle school."

"What?" Sora yelped, turning sharply to face the pink-haired girl. "What do you mean by that?" The others nodded, watching her carefully; Daisuke's face was screwed up in concentration as he tried to discern all the possibilities of her statement.

"Isn't it obvious?" Mimi sighed, and then with exaggerated patience, as if she was speaking to a stubborn four year old, she went on, "Taichi's gay, right? Well, isn't it obvious that Yamato's gay too?"

"Mimi, I'm afraid that would be quite impossible. You see, Yamato is currently engaged to be married to a woman, which would imply that he was heterosexual. And, there is the fact that he has never expressed interest in any male before," Koushiro placed a hand upon hers and she snatched it away, watching him indignantly.

"I'm not blind, you know. I can see that he's going to be married to that—woman," she spat, her dislike emanated from her facial expression and her body language, "but, it's always been obvious that he's also in love with Taichi!" She looked around at the dubious expressions surrounding her and then groaned in frustration. "Fine, then, if you don't believe me, I'll just have to prove it to you." Mimi stood and began to pace, "Haven't you ever noticed how Yamato is always so willing to be so close to Taichi? Haven't you ever seen how touchy-feely those two are? And Yamato's always staring at Taichi when he thinks none of us are looking. Haven't you ever seen it before? God, if Yamato's blind, then I don't see how you guys even get around without running into things."

"Hey! We're not blind, it's just that it's kind of hard to believe as we've never actually seen proof that Yamato was gay. I mean, Taichi—well, that was obvious to everyone but Yamato," Jyou said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Why don't you give us evidence? You know, actual incidences that have occurred."

Mimi snorted, "That's easy. Remember our after-graduation party? Didn't you guys see Taichi making out with some girl? Well, no, you wouldn't have. They were in this dark corner but—it was pretty heated. Well, I was at the bar flirting with some guy and Yamato stomped over, looking really mad about something. It was scary, the look on his face. And then he turned to me and started ranting about how Taichi was practically fucking someone in the corner, blah blah blah."

"How do you know if he wasn't just upset about the girl?" Sora asked, looking still skeptical.

"Oh, well, after that, Yamato got pretty drunk—sloppy, messy, disgusting drunk—and I figured that I would take him home since he was in no condition to drive home. So I hailed a taxi cab and we got in and then he started slurring about how upset he was that Taichi was with that slut, how Taichi hadn't even noticed him, and how much he wanted to know just how well Taichi kissed. I would count that as wanting Tai, wouldn't you?"

"Um, Mimi, are you sure it wasn't just the alcohol talking?" Koushiro asked tentatively, seemingly unwilling to upset her again.

"Yes! He started crying and saying that there was no hope and that he ought to just move on and—that it was just a sign." Mimi concluded sadly, shaking her head.

Taichi's eyes went wide; he remembered the party, remembered the girl, and the confusion he felt when, after he'd disentangled his mouth from hers, Yamato was gone. He remembered talking to Mimi, asking her if she knew where Yamato was, and he recalled the distinct coldness with which she had answered him. So what would have happened if he hadn't given into the alcohol and if he had listened to that quiet, nagging voice that using a girl to drown his sorrow was not going to help his life whatsoever?

"So, you're saying that Yamato's gay but he's still going to get married?" The look on Sora's face told Taichi that she was still struggling to believe it.

"No, not at all. I'm saying that Yamato's bisexual." Mimi rolled her eyes, "I think he really _is_ in love with this—Sayura," again, her face screwed up in distaste, "but I also do think that, deep down—maybe so deep even he doesn't know it—I think he's in love with Taichi."

"Are you sure? It's not that I don't trust your judgment, Mimi, but—well, Yamato has never shown any signs of that, except to you and he was really drunk. And besides, it doesn't make sense that he wouldn't know he was in love and you would know."

"You have to understand that Yamato's a real good actor. I mean, even I hadn't noticed anything until he told me and I had an idea of what to look for. Then, it made sense. But—Yamato buried it down so deep and conditioned himself to forget that he was in love—I don't really know how to explain it or anything but—that's just how it is. He's "forgotten" about it or something. And I never said anything to him or to you, before this, because after all, he was drunk. It'd be kind of embarrassing to know that he'd spilled his guts to me and that I knew everything."

It didn't make any sense, what Mimi was saying. It didn't make sense and it was making Taichi angry. He'd just come to terms with it, had finally been able to tell himself that Yamato would never be his. He'd just given up hope and here they were, fanning it inside of him again. He didn't need hope, didn't need the pain that came with broken dreams. It made him so angry that he forgot he was eavesdropping and that he wasn't supposed to be there at all. In his rage, he burst through the door and the group jumped, turning to him with scared eyes at the look on his face.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SITTING HERE TALKING ABOUT ME AND YAMATO? WHO THE FUCK GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO TALK ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK? WHY ARHE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS? WHO THE FUCK GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO TALK ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK!"

"Calm down, Tai, please." Sora rushed over and attempted to restrain him but he shook her off and continued to rampage the room, turning chairs over and screaming at the top of his lungs.

"I WAS DOING JUST FINE! I WAS LEARNING TO LIVE WITH IT AND HERE YOU ARE, TRYING TO GET MY HOPES UP AGAIN! I DON'T FUCKING NEED HOPE, ALRIGHT? I DON'T NEED IT, DON'T WANT IT, DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT. JUST LEAVE MY LIFE ALONE! I DON'T WAN IT!" Suddenly, the rage was gone and Tai sank to the floor, devoid of the energy that his anger had caused. Something deep inside of him broke and he knelt on the hard floor, staring at it, ashamed beyond belief.

"Tai, I'm so sorry. We didn't mean to do anything wrong, we just—we just wanted to help. I'm sorry," Sora breathed, crying and shaking from fear. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Without thinking, Tai leant into her warmth like he'd done so many times with Yamato, leaned in and held her to his body. Soon, he was shaking too and doing his utmost to keep the tears from falling. "We were just so worried about you, Tai. We want to help. Let us help you. Please. Don't hurt yourself anymore. Don't—don't do this, please?"

It hit him suddenly that he'd been so wrapped up in his own pain that he hadn't realized the hurt he was causing his friends. It was as if he'd been seeing life through a two-way mirror, seeing his world but not the whole picture. The rest of his friends crowded around him and Sora, all looking nervous. Kari came closer, and put her hand on his shoulder, also crying. Jyou was pale, no doubt from the scare Taichi had given him, but he looked just as sympathetic and worried as everyone else. Mimi bit her lip and hung back, not knowing if Taichi wanted her to come nearer. He was suddenly so tired of everything, of life, but so determined to live. It was a strange feeling; as if he'd run a thousand miles and accomplished something great but knew he still had such a long way to go until the top of the hill. Something had happened in the past two minutes. He couldn't explain it. All he knew was that he was not at the bottom of the pit anymore, that he was making some sort of progress. It didn't make any sense to him and, frankly, it was scaring him but it was changing him and he somehow knew that the change was for the better.

"Look, don't tell anything to Yamato, okay? He's happy and—and if he's happy, then I guess I can be too," Taichi sniffed, raising a hand to wipe impatiently at the tears which fell from his dark eyes. There was a collective gasp and then Sora's arm shot out and grasped his hand, stretching his arm out and pulling up his sleeve at the same time.

"What the hell is this, Tai? What are you doing to yourself?" she sounded sad, not accusing, as she lightly brushed a finger on the jagged red welts that zigzagged across the pale skin of his forearm. A single tear fell on the wound and she bent over his arm, gripping his hand so tightly the tips of his fingers were turning red. "Why? Why, Taichi?" she whispered tearfully, over and over. He watched her without shame that she had discovered his habits, but rather with a passive sort of numbness. Those scars were as a part of him as his mop of hair that stuck up all over the place. He couldn't be made to understand why they were so horrible.

Taichi stood slowly, staggering as the blood rushed to his legs, and pulled Sora up with him. She clung to him as if she was afraid that should she let go, he would fly away and never return.

"Leave it, Sora. It doesn't concern you," he said wearily, running a hand through his hair. Her face convulsed and she pulled away from him, an odd look in her eyes. He didn't see her raise her hand but the dull sound of flesh slapping flesh rang through the room and Taichi felt his stinging left cheek with something resembling surprise.

"How dare you say that? How dare you?" Sora hissed, her voice quivering. "I have known you longer than any of your other friends, longer even than Yamato. We were practically born at the same time! How dare you tell me that this," she gestured at his arm, "doesn't concern me? Of course it does. And if it doesn't, I'm making it concern me. Your suicidal, self-destructive tendencies hurt me in ways you will never even be able to fathom and I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself just because you're in love with someone who doesn't love you in the same way!"

"Stop it! You don't know what it's like so quit lecturing me about it!"

"Yes, Taichi, yes I do. I fucking know all too well!" tears were now sliding in thick streams down Sora's face. "It hurts, Taichi. Every single damn time you see them, you see another reminder than they will never belong to you, that they will never see you and only you. And that knowledge stabs you, right here," she pressed a fist to her heaving chest, "it hurts like nothing else can hurt you and it isn't something that goes away after awhile. It stays and it lingers and carves away at your soul until you feel as if you're just a shell of what you once were. Don't tell me that I don't know what you're going through, Yagami Taichi, because I do." Her voice got softer and, tentatively, she rested a hand on Taichi's shoulder, "I have scars of my own, Tai. I stood in the exact position you're standing in right now."

"I—I'm," he struggled with the words, unable to meet her eyes, ashamed.

"You don't have to say it," she leaned in, closing her eyes, and gently pressed her lips against his cheek. "I love you, Yagami Taichi, and I will never stop loving you, no matter how stupid, stubborn, and blind you may be. You're my idiot best friend and I love you."

He managed a small smile, and the tension broke somewhat. "Thanks, Sora. Love you too." Tai looked up and met the eyes of everyone in the room, apologizing with his eyes, if not with words, and asking for their forgiveness. Judging from the smiles they beamed back at him, they still accepted him into the fold. He had only a short time to reflect on how lucky he was that he had such great friends who did not hold grudges and how stupid he had been to think that he could live life without them.

"Right, now, Tai, you have some explaining to do," Mimi pushed her way through the crowd, her hands on her small hips. He looked at the pink haired girl and wondered, as he did so, how she could be so perceptive when her mind was so preoccupied with fashion as it was. "Why is it that you hate Sayura so much? Do you really love Yamato as much as you think you do? How long have you loved Yamato?" The questions would have kept coming, faster than Taichi could answer if Sora hadn't intervened and commanded the group back into their chairs. She pulled up an extra one for Tai and, once everyone was seated, allowed Mimi to ask the questions no one else dared to ask, only more slowly. "So, Taichi, why exactly is it that you hate Sayura so much?"

"I—I really," he trailed off and closed his eyes to think more clearly. "It isn't that I hate her, per se. I just don't get along with her personality. She has too many rules and—she's too rigid. Put bluntly, I suppose she's just anal. But, what's more, I don't think she's right for Yamato. There's _something_ about her that doesn't click. I don't know how to explain it but," he shrugged, "that's how I feel."  
He felt, watching the group as they nodded their heads slowly, that he hadn't done enough to describe the discomfort he felt when around her. Sayura was a businesswoman, with little appreciation for the arts. She had no need for music, felt it was rather a waste of time, and that very fact had sealed Taichi's dislike. How could she possibly fall in love with a man whose whole life revolved around the poetry, symmetry, and flow of lyrics and notes? How could she possibly support Yamato if she didn't know or even care about the amount of work and effort that it took for him to write and compose his songs? Watching her during Yamato's brand practice, Taichi was always sure that she was wearing earplugs to drown out the music as she typed incessantly on her silver laptop. She was never without her cellphone or her laptop and frequently brought her work with her on group outings, preferring to stare into the screen or yell into the phone than converse with Taichi and the others. Yamato was too blinded by her beauty and that smile of hers, which, Taichi hated to admit, was pretty dazzling in and of itself, to see the disrespect with which she treated his friends. Of course, she was careful to conceal it behind a polite half-smile, the fake curving of her lips—a smile that refused to melt the emptiness which resided in her eyes when Yamato was around. If he, for some reason or another, should leave her with them alone, she regarded them with airs that were haughty and disdainful. Taichi could tell that she thought them lowly and beneath her; none of them could possibly compare to her skills, brains, or beauty. It infuriated him that Sayura could be so—unfitting with the group and that Yamato could not see it.

There was also the fact that she very much disliked him (and seemingly singularly). She had made it clear after a while that she thought football was for the stupid and dim-witted people who couldn't possibly get into college on their brainpower alone, if they even went to college. The way she talked to him was not so much talking with him but talking down at him. Whenever Yamato and Taichi struck up a conversation while she was around, she did everything in her power to draw him away. Taichi felt that that she was jealous of him; jealous of the deep bond that ran between the two men, the bond that had been formed long before she had even stepped into the picture. She had also seemed to guess that Taichi was gay; not that she knew he was in love with her boyfriend. Apparently, there was a deep-seated hatred in her for homosexuals and she enjoyed abusing them whenever Tai was around. Her snide remarks about the gay lifestyle were always punctuated with casual glances his way, her eyes challenging him to defend himself. He wasn't ashamed of being bisexual, though he was uncomfortable discussing it with others. It irritated him that she cared to presume such things when she really didn't even know him, disregarding the fact that she had guessed right.

What bothered him the most about Sayura was not her personality or the way she seemed to think he was disgusting but, rather, her habit of coming between Yamato and his friends. Since he began to date her, she had booked his schedule so full of "high-class activities" like going to the opera or theatre, that he rarely had time to see or even talk with his friends. When he insisted upon being at one of their outings or at a birthday party, she would come along and keep him to herself, by making requests or dragging him around by the hand. Taichi hated that she couldn't understand that her boyfriend had a life of his own and that he had functioned quite well without her. She didn't get the concept of having friends and was, as he had mused many times before, obviously jealous that Yamato could possibly like anyone that wasn't her. On the rare occasion that Taichi had been able to get Yamato to himself, the blonde's cellphone rung every half-hour to hour; Sayura's way of checking up on him. She had pervaded every aspect of Yamato's life and seemed to be controlling him, without Yamato even knowing it.

"Taichi? Taichi? Hello!" He was brought back to earth by about a dozen voices calling his name.

"Huh? What?" he asked dumbly, blinking back and forth.

"You haven't answered our question, Tai," Mimi smiled sweetly.

"What question?"

"We were asking you if you really do love Yamato and why? And be completely honest." At those words, Taichi's heartbeat rose considerably. He had never admitted it to anyone besides himself that he loved his best friend in more ways than one. From what he had heard before his temper got the better of him, the group had a shrewd idea as to his feelings so he might as well confirm it and spare them the uncertainty as to how to help him.

"Yes, I really am in love with Yamato. Why? Well, to tell you the truth, I don't really know why. I love how he can be such a happy, carefree person one moment and the next he's a raging, spitting, biting monster. I love how he tries to hide his emotions but his eyes end up betraying them anyway. I love the way his eyes darken when he's unhappy and lighten when he's happy. I love that he's a real person with his problems and that he can make me so fucking mad sometimes. Love the way we can fight and make up in the space of two minutes. I love how we can just sit and be quiet and comfortable without having to make useless conversation; how we can talk without really having to say anything at all. He's so flawed and yet so perfect and I can't help but want to stay with him forever and be with him forever and laugh with him, cry with him, and share my life with him. I know this sounds so corny and clichéd but," he shrugged, "I can't help it."

"Wow," Mimi sighed, her eyes starry and dreamy as she stared vaguely at the ceiling, "it's even better than I thought." He rolled his eyes—girls and their romance!—and for a moment, it felt as if they were all in elementary school again where girls still had cooties.

"Yeah, well, he's getting married so how I feel is not relevant." Silence once again settled upon the group. "In any case, at least he's still my friend. I suppose just being his friend is better than nothing."

"That's the spirit!" Daisuke cried, jumping up to pound a hand on Taichi's slumped shoulders.

"Dai's right, you know," Takeru said, standing and approaching the older boy. "But, just between us, I'd rather Yamato loved you than Sayura. I don't like her."

"Thanks, Takeru," Taichi smiled, "that means a lot to me."

"Right, now, on to equally pressing matters," Sora clapped her hands, sounding brisk and business-like, "Yamato misses you, Taichi. He says he hasn't seen you for a while and that when he tried to approach you, you nearly bit his head off. He thinks you're angry at him but doesn't know why and he's at a loss of what to do."

Taichi sighed, "alright, I'll go talk to him and apologize. I was being a bit unreasonable." Wondering if Yamato was at home, he stood absentmindedly and left the group, waving vaguely over his shoulder. He didn't see the sad smiles that were aimed toward him nor did he notice the way Sora sighed longingly after him.

It was dusk now, and Taichi walked slowly through the park, inhaling cool air deep into his lungs. He loved this time of day, when dark and light mingled together, creating purple clouds and blood-red skies. Tonight's sunset was particularly breathtaking and he stopped at a grassy knoll to sit and watch the last rays of golden sunshine disappear and a blanket of velvety dark blue roll over. He stood, brushing himself off, and then walked until he stood in front of Yamato's door. It was getting cold and he didn't have a sweater. His clothes were ill-suited for the colder weather of fall and he shivered slightly, hunching his shoulders and tucking his hands deep inside his pockets. His shirt offered little protection against the wind; in fact, it was less of a shirt than a thin tank-top with a hood. He knocked slowly on the hard wood and then pressed his ear against the door, listening for the soft footsteps which arrived soon thereafter. The door opened so suddenly that Taichi lost his balance, stumbling against the warm body of his best friend.

"Taichi!" Yamato exclaimed, instinctively wrapping his arms around the brunette, drawing him inside the warm, cozy house, as he the door against the cold night. "What are you—why aren't you wearing a—never mind. Come in." Taichi smiled at the useless invitation, as he was already inside.

"Sorry for stopping by so suddenly, Yamato, but—I wanted to come and apologize for my behavior the other day. I wasn't feeling very—well and I suppose I just snapped at you without even thinking."

"Ah, it's no problem. I hope I hadn't done anything to upset you, though. I thought—well, I thought you didn't want to be my friend anymore."

"What? No! I would never want that!" Taichi protested so vehemently that he was left with little doubt. "I just haven't been myself lately. I guess you could say that I received quite a wake-up call earlier." He rubbed thoughtfully at his cheek, shrugging ruefully.

"So, then, come on, have you eaten? I just prepared something." Yamato grabbed his hand and pulled him further inside, talking too fast and with relief all too evident in his voice.

"Smells good, Yama."

"Of course it's good. I cooked it after all." Yamato sniffed indignantly, placing two dishes heaped with food on the table. "Tell me, Tai, why is it that you're walking around wearing only a tank top when it's practically freezing outside?"

"I wasn't planning on being out quite so late. But one thing led to another and I was." He began to eat ravenously, having forgotten what it felt like to be truly hungry, without a pit of anger in his stomach. A contented silence warmed Taichi as the two ate and when they had finished, both made their way to the couch.

Yamato flopped into the overstuffed couch, sinking into its cushions. Taichi sat down next to him and angled his body so that he faced his friend.

"How's the wedding coming along, Yamato? Have you got a date planned and all that?" A shadow flitted across Yamato's face and, though it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, his light blue eyes deepened to the color of a stormy ocean.

"I dunno. It's great. We're planning on a spring wedding, I think. I can't wait to be married, Taichi. I really can't." But Taichi appeared unconvinced that all was well, despite Yamato's insistence that it was.

"Are you sure, Yama? You don't look very happy," he asked quietly.

"I-I," he stuttered, "How could you tell?"

"You forget that I'm your best friend, Yama. I've known you for so long that I can see your real feelings in your face," Taichi scooted closer, until he was shoulder to shoulder with Yamato. "What's wrong, Yama? What vague feelings of unhappiness are you feeling? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Promise me you won't be mad if I tell you." The voice issuing from the blonde sounded so much like a five year old that Taichi raised his eyebrows in surprise, but nevertheless nodded.

"I promise, Yama."

"Ok," the blonde sighed, allowing his head to droop onto Taichi's shoulder. "It's just that I wanted you to be my best man, you know? You're the best friend I've ever had and I trust you with—well, with everything."

"And?" Taichi prompted quietly when Yamato paused.

"_And_ Sayura simply refused to let me ask you. I just don't get it. I had counted on you being there to crack jokes if I got too nervous, to wish me good luck when Sayura was walking down the aisle. Frankly, it just wouldn't be the same without you." Taichi slung an arm casually around his friend's shoulder and squeezed. Yamato, likewise, scooted closer, desiring the friendly contact.

"Can I tell you the truth, Yama?" he bobbed his head up and down in permission and Taichi went on, "To put it bluntly, I'm hurt but not surprised. Sayura isn't too fond of me after all."

"What?" Yamato jerked upright, eyes wide, "Why? How could she _not_ like you?"

"I—I don't know, Yama. I guess our personalities just don't match. She's super-organized and me—well, I'm laid back and easygoing—,"

"Wish she was too," Yamato muttered, leaning his head back on Taichi's shoulder. "I mean, it's not like I don't love her," he hastened to amend himself, "on the contrary, I love her. I just wish that she knew how to have fun. I mean, she's intelligent and beautiful and we have so much to talk about all the time but—she doesn't know how to act in the least bit unsophisticated. You know you and I used to go to those amusement parks and scare ourselves silly riding those death traps or how we liked running around at the park acting stupid but having such a great time? Well, she disapproves of any and all horseplay. Sometimes, I just wish she could let her hair down, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Taichi smiled, relaxing against his friend and resting his cheek on Yamato's silky soft hair. They were quiet, both staring at the blank television screen in front of them. Yamato was dozing lightly and, judging by the deep breathing above him, Tai was just falling asleep when the door opened and a shrill, high-pitched voice shattered the tranquility that had settled, like a warm blanket, over the two.

"Hello-o? Yamato!" Sayura called, "I was in the neighborhood, baby, and I thought I'd—," she stopped in the middle of her sentence as she entered the living room and saw the two on the couch, dozing. "What the hell?" she shrieked, causing Yamato to jerk awake. The first thing he saw was an irate Sayura standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. Taichi woke with a start as well and he blinked blearily at the angry woman.

"S-Sayura, I didn't know you were coming by," Yamato yawned widely, covering it with his hand. "I thought we were going to see each other tomorrow."

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" she pointed a shaking finger at Taichi, advancing dangerously on him and ignoring Yamato's question. "What were you planning to do, seduce Yamato? He's _my_ boyfriend, _my_ fiancé, and he loves _me_. Leave him alone, you disgusting faggot!"

"Hey! Don't talk about him like that. He's my best friend!" the blonde jumped angrily to his feet, his eyes were so dark that they appeared black.

"Well, it's true. Why don't you ask him?" Sayura retorted, her voice dangerous. "He's gay, Yamato, he's a homosexual."

"I know!" Yamato roared, forgetting in his desire to protect Tai from the barbed insults that Sayura was throwing out that he was supposed to be keeping his discovery a secret, even from Tai. "I know he's gay! I don't care, okay? I don't care!"

"You—know?" Sayura fell back a pace, stunned.

"Yama?" Taichi's quiet voice quavered fearfully and he whirled around to face the brunette, whose eyes were wide.

"Tai—," Yamato began, impulsively reaching out to touch his friend on the shoulder. But Taichi leapt away from him, as if his fingers would electrocute him. He turned and ran, with the air of an animal running from danger.

"Yamato," Sayura sounded as if she was controlling her anger with an effort.

"What the hell was that?" he shouted, waving his hand toward the door. "Why'd you scare him away like that?" The look on his fiancée's face was one of shock and she put her hand up to her cheek as if he'd slapped her. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his anger. "Sayura, sweetie, I don't care if he's gay. Obviously, you do, but I don't see why you should. He's my best friend and he's been there for me through thick and thin. I care for him and nothing will ever change that." Sayura's eyes flashed and she looked, for a moment, like she rather wanted to claw his eyes out. The next second, her anger had disappeared and she smiled coyly.

"Of course, 'Mato, I understand. I'm sorry for my outburst earlier. I guess I'm just not used to being around—gay people." As she drawled, her fingers danced lightly on his arms and rubbed his back, sending shivers down his spine. "Let's just—forget about this, hmmm?" Slowly, sensuously, she pressed her lips to his and one hand tangled itself in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He deepened it and she moaned, pressing her body against his and, despite his present anger at her, he felt himself getting excited.

It was strange how he could be so mad at her and yet, at the same time, want her so badly. He roughly picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, both her arms resting on his shoulders. Supporting her with one hand and still kissing passionately, he clumsily made his way to the bedroom, where he threw her on the bed after fumbling with the doorknob. His fingers went to the hem of her top and she raised her arms, giving him permission to tear it away. When he tapped her waist lightly, tickling her, she squirmed against him, giggling against his mouth but moaning at the same time. Yamato became impatient suddenly and, skipping the teasing, pulled down her skirt and her knickers with one hand while he undid her bra with the other. His fingers, experts at making her sigh and moan and squirm under him, went to the private place that she showed to no one but himself. Sayura arched her back when he slid himself inside her, her arms tightening almost painfully around his neck. Their bodies moved against each other and, again, she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper inside and heightening her pleasure.

What happened next was completely beyond Yamato and he would later joke that it was his subconscious telling him of something he had hidden away long before. He could feel himself nearing the height of his pleasure and, when Sayura threw back her head with a loud cry, clenching around him, he came as well. As he was emptied, he looked down at the person beneath him and saw, not his fiancée but a certain chocolate-eyed brunette who was not screaming loudly but smiling softly with pleasure and contentment. The vision disturbed him but, at the same time, looking deep into those eyes he knew so well, he felt completed.

The next moment, Sayura was back and she was panting, her hair spread around her head, eyes misty with lust. She raised her head and met his lips and he kissed back, trying to prolong the sweet, disturbing vision from a moment before. Sayura fell asleep with her head on his chest and he stared straight up at the ceiling, pondering the meaning of what he saw.

He was not gay. He was not gay. He was getting married in a couple of months; he _couldn't_ be gay. It just wasn't possible. And, yet, what other explanation could he come up with? At his height of pleasure, at the peak of it, he had seen a man whom he had always considered to be his friend, NOT a lover. But—but it had felt so—right. There was no other word for it. So what did it mean? How could he be so turned on by Sayura if Taichi could have that same effect?

Careful not to disturb the sleeping woman beside him, he got out of bed and put on some clothes, before padding to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. He had to think it through, come up with all possibilities. Maybe his mind was just on Taichi from the earlier scene? But, no, Sayura had always been able to make everything go away. He sipped his coffee, thinking hard on past sexual experiences with her but he found that he could not. All he saw were those eyes and that contented smile, all he could hear was the whisper of an obviously _male_ voice whispering his name. He shook his head. No, it wasn't right. No, no, no, no. What would Takeru think? And the others? Taichi had hidden it so well that it took words on a screen to make it obvious. He sighed, nerves on edge. Two months before his wedding and he was thinking about Tai. It didn't make any sense. After all, he wasn't gay… was he?

After the incident at Yamato's house, Taichi burst out the door and ran as fast as he could. It was definitely colder, frigid even, but he kept running. His blood pumped through his body as adrenaline kicked in and he kept sprinting. Eventually, he collapsed, right in front of the old oak tree that he and Yamato used to climb when they were younger. Kicking off his shoes, Taichi scrambled up the rough bark and curled up in the space where a particularly thick branch and the trunk met. This was his favorite place, partly because it was great for thinking and partly because it held so many great memories of his and Yamato's childhood; the way they used to race each other to see who could go the highest the fastest, or the way they would climb up and sit on opposite ends of the tree, talking about any problems they had, or even when they read their favorite books to each other, the books that were read a million times but never got old. The frigid wind was blocked, somewhat, by the thick foliage of the tree and Taichi delved into his brain.

Yamato knew. _How_ could he have known? Taichi was so careful to hide it from the blonde. He was less concerned that the others knew, but Yamato? It didn't matter that Yamato said he didn't care. Taichi knew that their friendship was forever altered by the mere fact that Yamato knew. Would he act differently around Tai now? Would Yamato be scared to have any physical contact with him? Questions swirled around Taichi's brain and he closed his eyes, willing it to stop. In his mind, Yamato was secretly disgusted but unwilling to let on to that fact. Bile rose in his throat and he gagged, leaning over to retch. It couldn't be, could it? Now so cold he could barely feel his fingers, Tai jumped from his perch and put on his shoes to stagger home.

Two months later, Taichi found himself reluctantly putting on a tuxedo, scowling as Sora handed him the articles of clothing. The glint in her eye was one so dangerous that he knew he would not get away with refusing it. She was wearing a beautiful black dress, accentuated around the waist by a wide champagne-colored ribbon, which trailed down the back of her dress in an elegant way. As soon as he was ready, she attacked him with a wet comb but he dodged her easily.

"That's where I draw the line, Sora. I'll wear this stupid tux but I will not be made to do my hair."

"Fine, fine, baka. Let's go, we're going to be late." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the car. When he stuck the key into the ignition, however, he was rewarded with a grating sound and a jerk, instead of a smooth hum.

"Ah, shit. Sorry, Sora, looks like my baby finally decided to die," he fondly patted the dashboard of the run-down car he had bought with his own money, an accomplishment that had given him much pride.

"Great. Just great, Tai," Sora groaned, unbuckling her seatbelt and furiously getting out of the car. "Well? Come on then, looks like we'll have to walk to my apartment and use _my_ car." Dressed in their finest, the both of them received strange looks as they trekked down the sidewalks on the unusually warm spring day. It took them thirty minutes to reach Sora's apartment and fifteen minutes to reach the church. Tai counted himself lucky that the bridal procession had not begun; there had been problems with Sayura's dress, delaying the wedding. Looking at his beautiful friend, whose pale, creamy skin contrasted starkly to the deep black of his tuxedo, Taichi was struck by how utterly nervous and ill-at-ease his friend seemed.

"Hey, Yama," he hissed, raising his hand slightly and catching the blonde's eye. He waved and smiled reassuringly, silently beaming his thoughts to his friend. Even with no words said, Yamato seemed to have understood Taichi's message and relaxed slightly, though his face was still devoid of a smile. It was at that moment that the organ music blasted and the wide doors at the back of the church opened to reveal three beautiful women, who made their way down the aisle, each carrying a bouquet of white roses. Behind them, trailed a small boy of five who carried a lacy, white pillow upon which two rings glittered brightly. Another small child followed him, scattering white rose petals and beaming at the adults who ooh-eh and ahh-ed over her as she clip-clopped down the aisle in her sparkling white Mary Janes.

Taichi smiled; it was picturesque but utterly clichéd and he knew that Yamato had nothing to do with it all. When everyone got to their feet, he did so as well, and turned to the back of the church to see Sayura wearing a full-length white gown, embroidered with what looked like diamonds. It could not have been anything other than outrageously expensive and Taichi wondered if Yamato, who was quite affluent from his early musical success, had paid for the dress. Again, he turned back to Yamato, who was now looking quite grim, not at all happy that his bride had appeared in all her glory, and a bit green about the face. Taichi searched the blonde's face for some small sign of joy but found none; the cerulean eyes were stormy and clouded. It appeared as if Yamato was not looking upon the woman in white but at something else, lost deep in thought…or memories. When Sayura reached the altar, Yamato shook his head, forced a smile, and took her hands in his.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of these two lovely, young people: Ishida Yamato and Nakamura Sayura. If there is anyone present who objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace." At those words, there were titters in the crowd. Not knowing exactly why, Taichi stood and everyone turned to stare at him.

"No, Tai!" Sora hissed, grabbing his hand and tugging on it to get him to sit down. Yamato looked mildly surprised but his eyes told Taichi that he also looked slightly relieved. Sayura, on the other hand, was livid and she was glaring daggers at him.

"I'm sorry, Sayura, that I'm disturbing your wedding but I—need to say this." He then turned his full attention to Yamato. "Yama, I don't think you should marry her. I guess it's always been obvious that I didn't—don't—like her and, well, maybe I'm just being selfish but I have my reasons. She's not—right for you, Yama. Her personality and yours are so very, very different and I know that old saying that 'opposites attract' but—I don't think you should marry her. She's always trying to change you, Yama, and, for some reason, you just allow her to take control over your life but you're perfect the way you are. I—,"

"How dare you!" Sayura shrieked, letting go of Yamato's hand, and putting her hands on her hips. "You have the nerve to show up when you aren't even wanted and now you have the audacity to try and persuade him to leave me? For who? You? Hah! When you finally get it into that stupid, thick skull of yours? He's _mine_, Yagami, _mine_. I want you to leave, now. Get out of here and don't you ever speak to either of us again!" At her outburst, Taichi had turned pale and when she had finished, he smiled sadly and bowed his head.

"As you wish, Sayura. You won't ever be troubled with my presence again. Goodbye, Yamato." He turned to leave when he heard Yamato.

"Wait! Taichi, wait. Don't—don't go." He heard footsteps and then Yamato's warm hand on his shoulder.

"Yamato!" Sayura's voice was a shrill whisper.

"Sayura," Yamato's voice is full of pain. "I'm sorry. I—I can't just turn my back on my best friend. No one—no one is worth that." Taichi hardly dared to look at him; his eyes seemed glued to the floor but the warmth beside him was enough to tell him that it was not just a lovely dream.

"Fine then, if that's what you want," Sayura stomped away from the altar, her voice tearful. "But I just want you to know that you're making a huge mistake, Yamato. I won't be seeing you." She walked away with as much dignity as she could spare but the anger in her voice and demeanor was obvious to everyone. The slamming of the door echoed in the silent church but, as soon as it was shut, the whispering renewed. Many of Sayura's guests were throwing dirty looks at Yamato and Taichi but neither seemed to notice.

A small sob issued from Yamato, unheard by any save for Taichi, who immediately turned on him. Tears were gathering in his eyes and his lips were pressed tight together, as if he was about to be sick.

"I can't believe I just did that, Tai," he whispered sadly. Tai shook his head.

"I know, Yama. Come on, let's get you someplace private, okay?" Yamato nodded numbly and allowed himself to be led away to the very room where he had been getting ready earlier. Once inside, Taichi made sure the door was closed and locked and the two friends were silent for a bit. Yamato sank weakly onto the overstuffed sofa, covering his face with shaking hands.

"God, Taichi, I didn't mean to humiliate her like that. I just—it was like suddenly, she was—oh, I don't know," Yamato moaned into his hands. Taichi was by his side in a moment, wrapping his friend in a big hug.

"I'm sorry, Yama. I'm sorry, I just had to say it. I couldn't hold it in. I couldn't let you make a mistake that you would regret forever," he whispered into the blonde's ear. Yamato turned to him, suddenly, with large, liquid eyes.

"Tai?" his voice quavered "Tai, are you—do you love me?" Taichi stared; the wind had been knocked out of him from the question and he didn't know how to answer. "Oh, don't be mad, Taichi," Yamato gripped the lapels of Tai's tuxedo, misinterpreting the brunette's silence. "I didn't mean to but I read one of the poems you'd written and I just—knew. But, Tai, was I right? Do you," he took a deep breath, "do you love me?"

Taichi's heart was pounding. It was too surreal; never, in a million years, did he think he would be sitting with his best friend on his best friend's wedding day being asked if he was in love. He didn't know if he should hide it, for fear that it would ruin their friendship and make everything awkward, or if he should take the plunge and go for it. Tell the truth. The little nagging voice in the back of his head screamed for him to tell the truth and get it all in the open. But he wasn't sure. Could he take the risk? Could he really open his mouth and say it? No. No. He couldn't—wouldn't—be responsible for ruining this friendship, the closeness he cherished so much with Yamato. He couldn't. Bile rose in his throat but he pushed it back down as he stared into the swirling depths of Yamato's clear blue eyes, begging him for an answer. For the right answer. But what was it? What did Yamato want to hear? The room spun, the floor pitched wildly underneath him, and Taichi's head hurt so badly it felt as if he would fly into a million pieces in the next moment. He shut his eyes tightly and willed himself to stay together, _stay calm_. And then, suddenly, he knew.

The calm that came with decision was like the eye of the storm. He smiled gently and opened his eyes again to face reality, and the truth. There were no words to describe the emotions in him and he knew that he wouldn't be able to say anything at the moment. So he did the only thing he could think of to get his point across.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against Yamato's. The blonde stiffened slightly, inhaling sharply through his nose, but didn't draw away. They stayed like that for a heavenly moment and then Taichi pulled away. Yamato opened his closed eyes and smiled.

"Yes, Yama. I love you. I've loved you for about as long as I can remember." He stopped and watched his friend closely, wondering what would happen next. The whole thing had spun out of control and all he could do now was sit and wait.

It was crazy. The whole thing was utterly insane. He was sitting on a couch, his wedding having fallen apart only a few moments ago, kissing Taichi. Kissing Taichi! It was not normal but oh-so right. It felt right. He had never imagined Taichi's lips feeling so soft, so warm. He was scared, terrified, but at least he felt right.

"Yes, Yama. I love you. I've loved you for about as long as I can remember." There was Taichi's answer. And now the man was looking at him with such—hesitance that it broke his heart. He was still dazed from the kiss, which he could still feel tingling on his lips. "Yama?" that deep voice trembled with uncertainty and Yamato smiled softly, putting his hand to those beautiful lips.

"Shut up, Taichi," he murmured and then replaced his fingers with his lips. "Promise me one thing," he said, resting his forehead against Tai's, half-breathless from the kiss and from the exhilaration of what he was feeling.

"What?"

"Promise me that you'll always love me."

"I promise. Forever and always." Taichi smiled and his eyes danced, sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.

The haunted, pained look had not altogether disappeared and Yamato knew that it would not completely vanish for a long time to come, but at least it had not destroyed Taichi's ability to smile. He knew it would take some time before he would be fully comfortable with the issue of his bisexuality. He also knew that it would be awhile before he would share with anyone else this new development in his relationship with Tai. He would, eventually, as it was too big of a deal to keep from everyone. But, for the time being, he wanted Taichi all to himself. He lay his head in Taichi's lap and looked up into his upside-down face. _So this is what it feels like… to meet one's soulmate._

"You know, Yama, you're mine, now. You're all mine." Taichi laughed, it had been such a long time since he had been able to genuinely laugh. Joy bubbled in his stomach, spilling over into his face and spreading to his body; it was so completely different to anything he had ever felt, so lovely, exonerating and healing. He had never dared to hope for anything before, had always been too scared to dream, only to fall back down into earth. Now, there was no fear, and dreams really did come true.

"Really now? Says who, Yagami?" Yamato wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out. "And what will you do now that I'm yours?" Taichi sobered and hunched over, hands on his knees.

"I'm going to do this, and this, and—this." He punctuated each word with a kiss on a different place of Yamato's face. His forehead, his nose, and finally, his lips. Yamato purred, actually _purred_, his eyes closed, and a drugged smile spread slowly across his face.

"I think, Tai-baka, that I'm rather…going…to like this," Yamato's pale hands reached up and captured Taichi's face, bringing his face down for another kiss. This one was different, deeper. Taichi's tongue asked entrance and those perfect soft-sweet lips gave permission.

Yamato tasted of mint and strawberries and…something else, something heady and powerful and _god_, this was forbidden. _No_, _not anymore._ He was happy and completed and he would _not_ let anything take that away. Yama was his and would be his, forever. He chuckled deep in his throat and Yamato shifted beneath him, reaching toward the vibrations. Their kiss became more needy and Taichi felt himself pouring all his need and love and hope into every tender movement. His hands moved slowly, ever so slowly, to the warm, slender body that was now so close, so within his reach. Gently, lovingly, he allowed his hands to explore every inch within his reach and he reveled in the sighs that issued from the mouth still attached to his. Of their own accord, his fingers frantically undid zippers and buttons until the layers of clothing fell away and exposed flawless skin.

"Wait," Yama whispered so softly it was almost a thought. "Not…yet."

"Only when you're ready, Yama," Taichi promised, caressing the satiny skin with the tips of his fingers, making Yamato moan deep within his chest. "Come on, let's go home." There was a flurry of activity as the blonde redid his tux and checked his appearance in the full-length mirror. Taichi stepped behind him and pressed his body flush against Yamato's, resting his head on Yamato's shoulder.

"Mm, Tai-baka, if you don't let go of me, we're never going to get out of here." Reluctantly, their bodies parted and the lost warmth was like a missing limb. As soon as they were apart, they longed to be wrapped around each other again, close and within sight. Yamato reached out his hand and Taichi linked his pinkie finger with Yamato's, a secret promise within the locked fingers, potent and beautiful and everlasting.

They took a long walk through the city. It seemed, to Yamato, that the colors were brighter and stood out more vividly. His senses were heightened, drugged almost, and he could feel, _sense_, every blessed delicious movement of the man beside him. He and his—he didn't even know if there would be a title, not that it mattered—found that they could talk more freely without any hidden emotions thickening the air between them, without the secret longing. They made their way to their place, that ancient tree, where they spent hours talking and laughing, reminiscing and remembering. The tree shook in the wind, deluging both in a shower of leaves and they laughed at each other as they brushed leaves from the other's hair. And Yamato knew, deep in his soul, that this would last and never go away.

Later, someday, he would tell everyone, starting with family and friends. He knew there would be some that would shrink from him and Taichi, disgusted and disapproving of their relationship. His mother and father, for example. But then, there would be those who would embrace it with open arms. Sora and Mimi and perhaps Jyou and Koushiro as well. He was going out on a limb but he thought it was safe to say that Takeru and Hikari would also be happy, as would Daisuke and Ken.

But he was completely unconcerned with the future. What mattered was the here and now, the importance of the moment lay with chocolate eyes and a wild mop of brunette hair that caught the sun and glinted with gold, the magnitude of all that had happened was in this moment where Taichi looked so much like an angel with his head framed by a halo of afternoon sunshine and a smile that could light the heavens.

A/N: Well, there you have it! Wow, this was literally written in a day (a record for me!). Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. BTW, I _know_ that it's a bit rushed and some of it doesn't make sense but… hey, love is wild and changing and always always unpredictable. Heh. that's what's so cool and scary about it. But, review and let me know if you loved it (and why) or if you hated it (and why)! Your reviews never cease to amaze, flatter, and humble me as a writer and I always love them.


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